


Sucks to be you

by writing1swat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, M/M, SPN kink meme fill, Sex Toys, Top Sam, bullshit plot, non-con, suspend your disbelief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 17:20:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1656338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing1swat/pseuds/writing1swat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme fill: <strong>http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/85012.html?thread=32141588#t32141588</strong></p><p>Since their society has a shortage on women, it's expected for men turn to their own sex. Women have to give birth to at least three girls through test-tube fertilisation, in return they can marry anyone they want. </p><p>Sam is part of an organisation that monitors young men and skirt chasers, to make sure young women don't get pregnant with more boys. Dean is a known and repeat offender. When Dean is caught again, it's Sam's job to reeducate him. </p><p>He starts with putting a cock-ring on him, Dean has to wear all times. Because Dean won't learn, he ties him up etc. and finally Sam teaches him how to take dick. Dean has also never been with a man before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the offender

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly don't know what I just wrote...pretty sure this is considered non-con.

It’s a hard debate on whether Sam has the best job in the entire world or the most annoying. See, the thing is, the human race is declining. Has been for decades but it was only a few years ago that some guy took notice to it and said, “Hey! Dude! I think there’s less women in the world–like a _lot_ less!” 

Then other people started to look around and saw the same thing and said back, “Whoa! I think you’re right.”

That was when people realized they should probably get off their lazy asses and do something about it. The higher ups came up with, well, this organization so to speak. The very same organization Sam found himself working in almost a year ago.

What the organization does is rather simple. It monitors men and women around the globe. It’s a rather big organization.

Society is a little wonky. There’s no doubt at all that there’s a shortage in women (they only make a quarter of the whole population now) and because of that most men Sam knows are gay or bi. You have to be if you want any sex at all. By law, women are mostly off-limits.

Sam has been with his share of men which is apparently one of the requirements in getting in with the organization.

There are two types of people that mostly make up the organization. The ones that get to sit on their asses all day monitoring (which Sam calls unlucky as hell) and the ones, like Sam, that gets to correct the transgressors.

Which comes back to Sam’s current predicament. Usually Sam can see, as clear as crystal, the ups to his job. He gets not only penalty-free sex, but also the satisfaction of correcting the wrongdoings of an otherwise good citizen. 

But today? Sam doesn’t see just that…because the person assigned to him is one Dean Campbell.

“Oh. Hey there, Sammy.”

This isn’t the first time Sam has met Dean, not by a long shot.

Dean is notorious for chasing after women and has been on the organization’s radar for about as long as Sam has been working for it. He’s only ever been caught once sleeping with one (a Rhonda Hurley, Sam believes). This would be the second time (“Told ‘em her name’s Lisa, dude.”).

“It’s Sam,” Sam says. Correcting his name seems to be automatic when it comes to Dean.

“Right. Okay. Sam it is,” Dean says easily. He’s drumming his knuckles idly on the table. His hands are cuffed together in front of him and Sam notices that his ankles are also cuffed to the front legs of the chair he is sitting in.

They are in the Correctional Room. It’s mostly big empty space (save for the one table and chair) with no windows and one exit. Sam tries for a smile in appreciation but he’s sure it looks more like a grimace. He sighs and adjusts the duffle bag slung on his shoulder. The movement catches Dean’s attention and his gaze slides to the bag with a little apprehension.

“What’s in that?” he asks and gestures to the duffle Sam is wearing.

Sam slams the bag onto the table and unzips it open. He can see the purple tip of something poking out and he knows without looking that Dean notices it too. Sam takes it out without a word and lets Dean gawk at it in silence. Next he takes out three small rings stuck together. 

A red bandana that Sam often uses as a blindfold is pulled out after. The last thing in the bag is just for kicks, to get a reaction out of Dean. It’s a circular contraption with leather straps on either side. Sam places it down next to the other items on the table and waits for a response.

Dean’s breath hitches after a moment and that’s all Sam’s really been waiting for. He leans over the table and says with as much authority as he can muster, “Ready for your lessons now, Dean?”


	2. gag

“Dude, you don’t have to do this,” Dean says at once, face pale as he stares at the offending objects on the table. He rattles his cuffs desperately at Sam, “Come on, man. I learned my lesson. Never again, okay? I’m sorry. Just let me go.”

Sam shakes his head, grinning with amusement. It’s what they all say but they don’t actually mean it. He gives Dean another once over. Dean’s wearing a leather jacket that looks old and worn out. Underneath is a white tee and the jeans he has on are riddled with holes. He’s got no shoes on which makes Sam think they got him this morning, maybe just barely after waking up and donning his jacket.

It makes it easier that he’s already barefoot. Two less things for Sam to take off.

“You don’t actually think I’m going to believe a single crap you spew, do you?” Sam asked leaning on elbows on the table.

Dean scowls and drops his hands. “Are you seriously gonna go through with whatever the hell this is?” He looks both furious and scared and Sam thinks he likes that look on Dean’s face. Much better than the leers he uses on women at bars and clubs and diners. “I said I was sorry. What more do you want?”

“Sorry that you got caught, you mean,” Sam corrects.

Dean slams his hands on the table and tries to get up but ankles cuffed to the chair makes it difficult. He lurches forward and nearly face plants into the table. “Shit.”

“Are you done trying to hurt yourself yet?” Sam asks, annoyed now. 

Dean glares up at Sam but doesn’t make another move so Sam takes that as a ‘yes’. He starts to walk over to Dean, noting the way Dean tenses up as he watches Sam like a hawk. When Sam touches Dean lightly on his shoulder he jumps. “Just going to take your jacket and shirt off, calm down,” Sam says in a voice he uses when he tries to settle his even year old nephew.

He realizes if he wants both articles of clothing off all the way he would have to release Dean from the handcuffs first. Dean would still be attached to the chair by his ankles but Sam knows, can see it in his eyes, that once he is released, he would fight like a wild cat. Sam also knows he’s stronger, or at least he’s almost positive he is.

While Dean has some impressive bulk to him, Sam is taller and he works out almost every day. “I’m going to release a cuff to work the jacket off you and you’re going to sit still and not cause any trouble, you got me?”

Dean doesn’t say anything. He looks down resolutely at the table. Sam isn’t going to have that. He tightens his grip on Dean’s right hand to the point of bruising, watching as Dean bites down on his lips to keep from crying out. Then he twists it.

“Oww! Fuck! You son of a bitch!”

“Dean,” Sam says warningly, twisting it further. He can only imagine the pain Dean is in right now. He’s sure he’s close to fracturing something, maybe even breaking a bone.

Dean finally concedes, slumping back into his chair. He’s making low whimpers, lost in the pain Sam is causing. “Okay, I’ll, I’ll…sit still,” he chokes out. “Just, stop, you’re gonna, gonna break my arm.”

Satisfied, Sam releases his wrist. He can see ugly colored bruises already blossoming on pale skin. Ignoring it, Sam carefully unhooks the cuff to Dean’s left hand and hooks it to right arm of the chair. Dean takes no notice to the fact that he’s still chained as Sam helps him out of his left sleeve of the jacket. Afterwards, Sam unhooks the cuff from the chair and attaches it back to Dean’s left wrist. He repeats the process with Dean’s right one.

A few minutes later the jacket lands in a heap by the back leg of the table.

Dean’s still got on his tee and he looks at Sam confused. Sam just grins and brings the shirt over Dean’s head and slides it down Dean’s arms. The shirt is bunched up with the cuffs, stuck there as well.

“First lesson I think you’re going to need to understand is that I’m in charge here,” Sam says. He picks up the first object he’s going to need to make sure that lesson sticks. He holds it up for Dean to get a better look at it. “See this that I’m holding in my hand, Dean? This is called a Ring Gag. The ring in the middle goes into your mouth and these straps go around your head. It makes it impossible for the wearer to talk coherently.”

Sam watches Dean’s eyes widen almost comically. When Dean opens his mouth to respond, Sam doesn’t hesitate to grab hold of his chin and push the gag in. Almost immediately Dean vigorously tries to shake it off but Sam grips his hair painfully and Dean stills long enough for Sam to finish buckling in the leather straps.

When he’s done, Sam takes a step back to appreciate the pretty picture Dean makes sitting in the chair with the ring gag in his mouth. Sam kind of wants to just sit here and stare at Dean all day but he knows he has a job to do and an ass (literally) to correct.

Sam lets out a wistful sigh and moves back to the table.


	3. blindfold

Sam is good at his job.

Really, really good.

His track record is almost perfect. Nearly every person he gets, comes back out into civilization behaved and obedient to the core. Dean Campbell shouldn’t be an exception.

Sam picks up the blindfold next. Sensory deprivation makes the lessons sink in better. It keeps the offender jumpy, on edge, and everything Sam tells them, they hang onto like a lifeline. When he turns around to see how Dean is doing he can’t help but smile.

Drool is already trickling in a thin line from the corner of Dean’s open mouth and Sam knows, can just tell, Dean is feeling humiliated by it. He also knows Dean is going to be feeling an awful lot more humiliated by the end of this. It is Sam’s goal. Dean’s going to remember this experience in the future every time he even thinks about trying to sleep with a woman.

Sam watches as Dean wriggles uncomfortably in the chair. His cuffed hands are fists and he looks like he’s debating on whether or not to wipe the drool off his face. Sam raises an eyebrow, wondering why he doesn’t just do it. Then Dean shoots a glance to Sam and it dawns on Sam that Dean doesn’t want to do anything out of line.

Sam smiles softly. _So he can be good when he wants._

“Okay lesson two will start in a moment, but first I want you to wear this,” Sam says holding up the blindfold.

Dean looks at it with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. He tries to talk but with the ring gag in his mouth all that comes out are a bunch of incoherent gurgles. Sam ignores it and steps behind Dean to put the blindfold on him. He takes a small step back. The movement causes Dean to jerk to where he hears the noise. Sam walks around a large enough circle and is thoroughly impressed when Dean correctly guesses his movement.

Finally Sam moves back to the table and picks up another object for the next lesson. He doesn’t bother to tell Dean what it is when he turns back around, fiddling with the rings in his hand instead. Dean can’t see it and it would kill the point of the blindfold if Sam tells him anyway. He walks over to stand in front of Dean, a looming shadow over his head, before kneeling down.

Dean is frighteningly still until Sam lays a hand on his thigh. Dean takes in a sharp breath, the gag causing the sound to be loud in Sam’s ear as Sam messes with the zipper of his jeans. “Shhh,” he soothes, one hand running gently over his thigh trying to calm him down.

Dean tries to jerk away but his ankles are still cuffed to the chair so he doesn’t go anywhere. “Shhh,” Sam says again when Dean starts to whimper instead. 

Sam continues to stroke Dean, hoping to quell the sounds he’s making, as he gently pulls off his jeans and underwear. “Lesson two, Dean,” Sam whispers, petting pale bare skin, “you ready?”

He doesn’t wait for a nod.

Sam puts the cock ring around Dean’s flaccid cock.


	4. cock ring

“What I just put on you is called a Cock Ring. You’re probably wondering how it works, why I put a ring around your cock. I could tell you but I think it’s more fun if I show you instead,” Sam says, then proceeds to stroke Dean’s cock. It stays limp in its band even after a minute of repeated stroking. Sam finally releases him as Dean makes pitiful noises around the ring gag.

“See? The band keeps you from getting a full erection,” Sam says, lifting the still flaccid cock up for inspection. Although Dean can’t get it up, the head of the cock is slick with pre-come. Sam leans down and licks a long stripe down the length, pleased to hear a moan escape Dean.

When he looks back up, he can see tear tracks from behind the blindfold. Sam leans over and thumbs some of it away ignoring the way Dean tries to jerk away. “Hey, shhh, it’s okay. The cock ring is to help you, Dean. You can’t keep fucking every woman you see. It’s against the law.”

Dean continues to whimper and Sam hurries on to the last lesson. He goes back to the table and picks up the last object before making his way back to kneel in front of Dean again. “You ever been with a man before, Dean?” Sam asks.

He gets a furious head shake and more tears and incoherent babble. “Shhh, Dean, shhh. Promise I’ll make it good for you,” Sam says. He unscrews the top of the bottle in his hand and squirts out a generous amount of lube on one palm. He then starts to coat both his index and middle finger in the stuff. “This is going to feel a little cold,” Sam warns as he circles Dean’s hole. He doesn’t wait for a response before he pushes both fingers in.

Dean’s incoherent as Sam quickly works to loosen him up. He tries to buck Sam off him but Sam squeezes his thigh tightly and Dean goes still again.

It doesn’t take very long before Sam has Dean moaning with his ministrations. When Sam feels Dean is loose enough, he slowly, carefully pulls his fingers out and stands up, tugging at his zipper and tugging off his pants and underwear. Sam’s cock is already at full erection from the earlier lessons.

“Shhh, almost done, Dean,” Sam says as he strokes through Dean’s hair like he’s a pet and lines up his cock with Dean’s loose hole. He pushes in.

By the time Sam pulls out, both men are sweaty and spent. Dean’s head lists to the side as Sam pulls up his pants. There’s a knock on the door that makes them both jump. Sam is just zipping his pants back up when John walks in, inspecting the room and its occupants with sharp awareness.

He takes in Sam’s lack of dress with slight disinterest and says, “How’d it go?”

“I think he learned his lesson,” Sam says looking down at the way Dean is slumped in his chair. His wrists are red and chafed from the cuffs. He’s still naked and the cock ring is still in place around his limp cock. The blindfold is damp with sweat and tears and Sam leans forward to take it off.

He is stopped by John. “Leave it,” John says. “I actually came to tell you the verdict.”

“Oh okay. What is it?” Sam asks, curious now.

“We’re putting him on probation for now. We think it’ll help if he has someone watching him 24/7. Want to take a guess on who we elected to be that someone?”

“Who?”

John doesn’t miss a beat as he beams at Sam. “You.”

Sam looks down at his new charge and _smiles_.


End file.
